


Pincushion

by innersanctuaries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, Season 13 Episode 13 Spoilers, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innersanctuaries/pseuds/innersanctuaries
Summary: Sticks and stones may break bones, but sewing needles silence screams.





	Pincushion

**Author's Note:**

> First off, MAJOR spoilers for S13Ep13 (Devil's Bargain). You've been warned!
> 
> Second off, I am so sorry for this. Like, really sorry. I've been meaning to write this since Thursday and now that I have, I wanna take it back. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it!! Song inspo is Way Down We Go by Kaleo.
> 
> (https://youtu.be/v96wkt38EU8)

_Pins and needles in my chest, blades and poison in the rest_

 

 I’m hurting so bad, I think I’ve been here for years. Crying, bleeding, pleading for freedom. The demon, he receives nothing but curses, but my father? I pray he hears my cries. I know they fall upon deaf ears, but still I must try. _You’re stuck here ‘till I don’t need you no more, angel,_ The demon laughs and mocks, spitting my name like filth. I begin to fear he’ll need me for an eternity, an eternity of this. A whip burning bright with holy fire coming down on my back once more, I stop asking to be set free, instead begging my father to simply let me die.

 

_There’s not a speck of blood on him, though he carves into me on a whim_

 

 It never stops, no matter how loud I yell. He enjoys it, watching me with that wicked smile on his face. _You’re a pincushion,_ He says with glee. _C’mon, scream a little more for me._ I grit my teeth and stay as silent as I can while the rusty blade saws me open again, as the white-hot poker is dragged across the organs threatening to make their way out of my body and onto the floor. Isn’t it sad that I’m used to the smell of my own flesh burning?

 

_Without my blade I cannot die, my wings shattered, I cannot fly_

 

 Broken wings, a fate he knows is worse than death. He’s crafty, too clever. If not for the agony clouding my mind, I know I’d be craftier, ten times more tricksy than he’ll ever be. But that’s wishful thinking, and wishes are things I now ration. Wishes are my only hope, prayers having failed me long before. _Daddy didn’t listen to you, did he?_ He fakes sympathy before twisting the pliers, destroying what was once my eye with a sick squelching noise. The way he licks his lips when blood trails down the side of my face like the tears I can no longer shed scares me.

 

_I’m only useful until I’m not, but after that, will I be left to rot?_

 

 I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to die, or if I’m meant to do this forever. There are needles pushed under my nails to drag screams from deep inside of me before I’m dropped onto a sharpened steel pole, skewered and sobbing. I talk too much, far too little but too much. Never will I say a word about the things he needs to know, but I will spew hatred as much as I damn well please. _You think you’re so smart, don’t you?_ He whispers in my ear. _Your mouth is useless to me if it don’t say anything important, messenger._ For once, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.

 

_Pins and needles through my lips, hooks and wires through my hips_

 

 He’s more creative than most have probably given him credit for, pouring holy oil down my gullet before sewing my lips shut, flaying me open and holding a lighter to my stomach. Every time, I end up in more and more pieces, cursing my vessel’s inability to leave itself that way. Every time, I heal only for him to find another way to make me hurt. I thought I’d get used to the pain after a while, but every second of it is just as bad as the moment I was dragged down to hell. I’ve started using all my wishes to beg for death. _I’d be sad that you can’t talk if your screams didn’t sound even better with your mouth sewed shut,_ He says.

 

_Were my lips usable, I would gloat, finally plunging my blade into his throat_

 

 The warm gush of his blood makes me sick. I’d vomit if only I could open my useless mouth. Hunters, my brother, they’re all here. Sam rushes forward to catch me as I fall, exhausted and crying. _It’s okay, Gabriel,_ Sam says my name, the first time I’ve heard it used kindly in longer than I can remember. _I’ve got you, you’re okay._ I latch onto him, smearing blood and grime and tears and fear onto his shirt. He doesn’t mind, rubbing my back soothingly. All I can do is whimper in place of wailing, pathetic and heartbreaking.

 

_I’ve finally been saved, being given the affection I’ve so craved_

 

 Hatred for me forgotten, I’m taken to a home, their home. Castiel, my dearest brother, he heals me and frees my lips. He holds me and whispers comfort in my ear, grooming my fragile wings as I did with him as a fledgeling. Words are foreign in my mouth, they’re punishable by the worst form of torture, so I do not speak. Sleep is a terror, throwing me back into the blinding pain I know all too well. I scream. _Gabriel! Wake up!_ Sam shakes me awake, touch gentle enough for me to lean in and take hold his arm. I hold his arm as if it’s the only thing keeping me in this reality. _It’s a nightmare, you’re safe here. I promise, I’ll keep you safe._ He crawls into bed with me, staying awake through the long night to hold me as I shiver and shake. I am terrified, but his arms are safe.

 

_On my heart he has a hold, the things he makes me feel are so bold_

 

 Nobody minds me following him like a ghost, refusing to be alone. I hold onto the hem of his shirt wherever he goes, it keeps me grounded. He’s never angry, never pitying. Worry is all I see in his eyes, worry and compassion for me. I still won’t, can’t talk. But he makes me want to. With each passing day, I feel safer than I did the one before. Each day, he still holds me. At night, he cradles me in his arms and presses the lightest kisses I’ve ever felt to my forehead before telling me to sleep. _You’re safe here, angel,_ He whispers. The nickname is perfect coming from him, the sweetest music to my ears. _You’ll always be safe with me._ For some reason, I believe him.

 

_Though I thought I’d be rejected, I’m unsurprised that he accepted_

 

 It’s been a year now, and the world is a bit better. I’m a bit better. Lucifer has finally been killed, and while I wept, I did so for the brother I knew, not the one he’d become. The world is better without that one. And I? I am better with Sam. He helps me piece myself back together, no matter how slow the progress. It’s been a year now, but no words have left my lips. Sam, he has no issues with this. He laughs and tells me he talks enough for the two of us. Sam has told me before that he doesn’t think he could sleep alone again if he tried, that I’m helping him as much as he’s helping me. Those are the moments where I don’t feel completely useless for a while. We’ve become a fan of movies. Or, I’ve become a fan of movies and he’s taught himself to research on the couch with a movie going in the background so that he can be next to me. Sometimes, I’ll fall asleep and wake up to him absentmindedly threading his fingers through my hair while looking for or trying to solve a hunt. This time, I roll into a sitting position next to him and lean over, close enough that his attention is on me. That smile I’m so addicted to spreads across his face and I can’t help but to kiss him, soft and sweet. And Sam? Sam pulls me closer, making sure we don’t break apart. _I didn’t want to scare you,_ He says breathlessly, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. _Let me take care of you, angel._ I’d let him do anything, I know he’ll keep me safe.

 

_Though I’ve been bruised, sliced up, and shoved, I finally know what it is to be loved_

 

 I’ve silently claimed him as mine, and he’s done the same with me. We wake up cocooned in my wings in the mornings, warm and content. Sam loves to pet them, he says they’re just as soft as I am. The way he looks at me makes the world seem brighter. He runs his fingers through my hair until I nudge him oh so gently. A gift, a golden feather on a chain, just for him. Feathers, they mean so much more to angels than it does to humans, but he seems to know. The tears that spring to his eyes tell me that much. _Thank you, Gabriel,_ He chokes out. _I love you._ I smile and give him a chaste kiss, then pull back to look him in the eye. My vessel has no scars, but my grace has plenty. Sam has never cared, he’s carried me down the road to recovery. Maybe it’s because he knows torture, he knows the eternity it is. How it doesn’t end when you’re saved, how it haunts you forever. Nevertheless, he is the only safe thing. For the first time in a year, only for him, I know I am safe enough to speak.

 

_I love you too, Sammy._

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to end badly, but also, my baby's been through enough shit as it is. Let him be happy, dammit!! 
> 
> I am so insanely fucking happy that Gabriel is back. Like, 'I cried for 45 minutes straight after I saw the episode' happy. Our prayers have finally been answered!! Gah, I'm so happy about it!!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please comment feedback, it helps keep me motivated and helps me know what you guys do and don't like!
> 
> Follow me on Instagram at @archangelica_angelica or on tumblr at innersanctuaries if you want to get in touch or just to watch me shitpost!


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